


Your Conscience Calls

by TheOtherWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29779302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherWinchester/pseuds/TheOtherWinchester
Summary: Sam has a nightmare and Dean tries to comfort him.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Your Conscience Calls

**Author's Note:**

> A Wincest fic that is inspired by the song “Tears Don’t Fall” by Bullet For My Valentine

Months after Jess died and they started sharing a bed again, Sam was still having nightmares. He tried to hide it from Dean, just like Dean tried to hide the bruises he got from getting kicked in the night. You can’t hide things like that from someone you’ve always been so intimate with. Dean, who usually slept in his shirt and boxers started sleeping in his jeans and Sam allowed himself to sleep only after Dean was lightly snoring. They acted like they didn’t notice the change in each other's behavior, but sometimes it’s hard to ignore a poorly hidden limp or a small whimper given off while in the arms of Morpheus. The unspoken apologies were thick and heavy in the way Sam carried himself and Dean’s tense shoulders conveyed the message “Don’t Sam. It’s okay. You’ll get better.”  
It happened when they were in some God-awful hotel that looked like it should charge by the hour, located in some unnamed town in Illinois. Sam curled up against Dean, an arm wrapping around him reflexively. Sam lowered his hand to put his fingers through his big brothers, amazed at the difference in size. How small and fragile Dean’s looked compared to his own. Dean’s fingers curled around his, and Sam let his eyes close.  
Dean woke up to the sound of distant thunder, and he moved in closer to his little brother. Sam had been afraid of storms when they were kids, and Dean wasn’t sure if Sam grew out of it or not. Sam was still sleeping, peacefully for once, and it seemed like the storm was almost over. Maybe Sam would get a restful night after all.  
It didn’t matter how much sleep he got. Once Dean woke up he was up for the day, no matter what. It was drilled into his skull as a kid, and it was something that just stuck with him. He got up to take a leak, carefully, because Sam was a light sleeper. He made his way to the bathroom, only by the Small orange glow given off by the nightlight that hotels always have. He did what he had to without turning on the light, and walked over to the dining table where the laptop sat open, ready for business. Dean just wanted to watch his brother sleep. He looked tranquil when he slept, and he never looked calm anymore. His bloodshot eyes were locked onto Sam, even with a couple tabs open for research. 

“Nobody hunts monsters, Sam! They’re not real!” Jessica yelled; her eyes wide in fear and disbelief and... anger? “Jess, you have to believe me! You’re in danger! You need to leave! Please believe me!” Sam cried desperately, tears welling up in his eyes.  
In a flash he saw Jess on the ceiling. Her mouth was open, letting out silent screams. “Jess! No!”, Sam cried out not knowing if Jess could hear him or not. Dean runs in, coming out of nowhere, “Come on Sam!”, he yells while all but carrying Sam out of the confined apartment, Sam fighting him the whole way.

Dean noticed changes in Sam’s features. He was whimpering and kicking. Dean got up and quietly walked over to Sam’s side of the bed, kneeling down to eye level so when Sam woke up, he’d see Dean there. He wanted to wake him up so badly but he knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea.  
Finally, Sam woke with a start almost tossing himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around his neck. Dean reflexively wrapped his arms around his little brother, and fell back with the force that Sam threw himself, pulling Sam with him. Sam was shaking so hard, Dean thought he’d fall apart. Sam buried his head in Dean's neck, drenching Dean’s shirt with tears that were crashing onto the thin fabric. Dean leaned up against the other bed, bringing Sam along with him. It was still an awkward position, but it was more comfortable. Dean ran his hands through Sam’s long hair.  
As the minutes passed, the sobbing quieted, and the shaking subsided. Neither one wanted to let go of the other and they slowly found their way to a different, more comfortable position. Sam’s legs were draped across Dean’s lap and Dean held him in a warm embrace that resembled the way someone would hold an infant. Sam shifted his head so he could look at his brother, their eyes meeting for the first time in weeks. Dean was twirling Sam’s hair around his fingers. Playing with Sam's hair calmed him down when they were kids and Dean was surprised that it still had the same effect.  
“Hey Sammy.” Dean said just above a whisper. It was so faint even Sam had trouble hearing it. “You’re okay.”  
Sam finally started taking in the surrounding scenery. It was just another dingy hotel room. No fire and no Jess. He hadn’t been in that apartment for months but it still haunted him. It was like an open wound that never quite healed all the way. Maybe he didn’t want it to. He didn’t want to forget the pain of losing Jess. He used that pain to fuel his need for vengeance. He used that pain to keep him going. Without all of that pain, all of the misery, Sam wouldn’t have a reason to keep going.


End file.
